


Doctor You

by LillianDeLooney



Series: DNCE (Desperate Need for Care and Ecstasy) [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (near) hypothermia, Awkward Boners, Bearded Derek, Couch Cuddles, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek is a Tease, Dom Derek, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Frottage, Hairy Derek, Light Dom/sub, Lumberjack Derek, M/M, Neck Kissing, Rain, Sexual Tension, Storms, Sub Stiles, Virgin Stiles Stilinski, kissing by the fireplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillianDeLooney/pseuds/LillianDeLooney
Summary: Stiles is lost in the woods and close to developing hypothermia when he finds the cabin. The mountain of a man living there gives him exactly what he needs and then some.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine sent me the link to this [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDBqkCWSJJ0) from Gonzo's Repose ... don't ask. Although I loved the video, I do have to mention that ASMR is not supposed to be sexual and I'm not sure this should be called ASMR, because I listened to this and my brain went straight to SEXY STEREK MEETING DOM/SUB GOTTA WRITE! Which is probably why my friend sent me this in the first place. I hope you’re happy, babe.
> 
> *This isn’t all-out BDSM (hence the mature rating), but the D/s is mostly in the way they interact and how Derek talks to Stiles.  
> **Title is from the same song by DNCE.

It’s cold, and it’s wet, and Stiles hates everything. He’s soaked to the bone and he lost feeling in his toes about ten minutes ago. His hands had been subjected to the same fate a long time ago. He’s pretty sure that he’s close to developing hypothermia, if the bluish tint to his skin and the painful shivering of his body are anything to go by.

His day had been bad enough to begin with, but this is just the rotten cherry on top. It’s the anniversary of his mom’s death, and he didn’t feel like spending it in his dorm room. So instead he had the brilliant idea to get inside his jeep – a beauty of a car that his mom had left him – and drive around town aimlessly. He’d ended up at a nature preserve and parked his car, wandering into the woods. He’d followed a trail at first, but his mind had started to drift and before he knew it he’d diverted from the path and gotten lost. And _then_ , because why the fuck not, it had started to rain, which had quickly turned into a heavy downpour.

This day _sucks_.

He can barely see anything through the rain, everything hurts from the cold, and all he can do is stumble on and hope he’s going in the right direction to get back to his jeep.

He doesn’t find his car. Instead, he stumbles upon a cottage smack in the middle of a clearing. He’d probably find it beautiful if he could make out more than its shape and some lights from inside through the drops of rain still blocking his vision. He almost sobs in relief and stumbles forward, not stopping until he has reached the porch and is finally covered from this shit storm.

He leans against the wall for a moment, panting against the wood as he tries to get his breath back. Then he wipes a hand across his face to try and get rid of the excess of water on it. It doesn’t really work.

He hears the door open next to him and looks up. A man appears in the doorway, and the word ‘lumberjack’ immediately comes to mind. The guy looks to be in his early thirties, with dark hair, intimidating eyebrows, but a soft-looking beard. He’s wearing red plaid and a ratty pair of jeans, his feet clad in a fuzzy pair of grey socks. The man is a wall of muscle - muscles _everywhere, sweet lord_ – and has the most intense eyes in a kaleidoscope of colours. The eyes drag over Stiles’ body, making him tingle all over and feel a rush of heat coursing through his still frozen body.

“Hey,” the man says, his voice a lot softer than Stiles was expecting. “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, uh,” he stammers, “I’m sorry.” The guy probably doesn’t appreciate him dripping all over his nice porch. A guy like him probably moved here for the peace and quiet, not to shelter lost hikers like him. Especially when they look like a drowned cat. “I’ll leave.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” the man mutters, almost too low for him to hear. “You’re shivering.”

He looks down at himself, and realizes that the man is right. Has the hypothermia kicked in yet?

“You’re just trying to hide from the rain, aren’t you?” the man continues. “Where are my manners? Come on in, I have a fire going.” He steps aside, inviting Stiles into his home. He doesn’t have to tell him twice. “I’m Derek,” the man introduces himself.

“S-Stiles,” he murmurs, trying to get his clattering teeth under control. He looks down at his still dripping-wet form. “Are you s-sure you w-want me to c-come in?”

“I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he frowns. “Or hypothermia . . . but you don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”

“N-No, I do,” he says quickly, blushing slightly. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, little one.”

Another burst of heat rushes to his cheeks at the man’s words, and he finally follows him inside. Derek closes the door behind them, and now that the cold from outside can’t reach them anymore, Stiles is surrounded by warmth for the first time in hours. He lets out a shuddery breath of relief.

“Wow, it’s lovely in here,” he tells Derek after a quick look around. “Very cosy.” And so blissfully _warm_.

“Wait right here. I’m gonna get you some dry clothes so you can change out of those wet ones.”

“Oh no, that’s okay, really. I’m fine. Thank you, but. . .” he trails off when Derek stares him down, raising one of his bushy eyebrows.

“I’m getting you some dry clothes,” he repeats, gentle but firm. “It’s not a problem. Plus, you’re soaking wet. I’d rather not get my floor wet.”

“O-Okay.”

Derek walks off to another room, his bedroom probably, and Stiles waits in the entryway. Honestly, it’s probably a good idea to get him out of those wet clothes. If he can get them off. He peels at his sweater and makes a face at the sticky noise it makes when he tries to separate it from his skin.

Derek returns and hands him a pair of sweats, a long-sleeved shirt, and some socks like the ones he’s wearing. “You’re free to use the bathroom to change.”

“Bathroom?”

Derek points at the door to their left. “That one.”

“Okay. I’ll be out in a second. Thanks again.”

“Take your time. I’ll be getting cosy on the couch over there, in front of the fireplace, and cuddle up into my blanket. You can join me when you’re done.”

He nods and goes inside the bathroom, peeling off his wet clothes as fast as possible so he can get inside Derek’s dry ones. They’re a couple of sizes too big for him, but they’ll do. He’s not picky right now.

He pads over to the living room and finds Derek with a blanket on the couch, right where he said he’d be. He awkwardly clears his throat.

“Where uhm, where can I put my clothes?” he asks, indicating the wet bundle in his hands.

“Just drop them in the bathroom. I’ll make sure they’ll get dry later.”

Stiles nods and goes back, returning to the living room a minute later, sans his wet clothes. Derek laughs when he catches sight of him. It’s a nice laugh. It makes his stomach flutter.

“You look even smaller in my clothes,” the man comments. “They’re way too big for you.”

“I’m not that much shorter than you.”

Derek only smiles, beckoning him closer and inviting him to join him on the couch, which is standing against the wall diagonally from the fireplace.

“I only have one blanket, but you’re welcome to share it with me.” Those intense eyes of his lock with Stiles’ again, making his heart race. “If you want.”

He swallows. “I don’t mind of you don’t?”

Derek spreads one arm, holding out one edge of the large blanket. “Alright. Come take a seat.”

He shuffles closer to the couch and stands in front of it, wondering where Derek wants him to sit.

“So uhm. . .  I just sit anywhere?”

He nods. “Of course. Sit anywhere you’re comfortable.”

“Uh, okay.” He takes a seat, leaving ample space between them. He wouldn’t mind sitting closer, but he’s not sure Derek would be okay with that. He looks at the man for directions.

“I think you should sit a little bit closer, little one,” he says, and there’s that endearment again. It has the same effect on him as the first time the man used it.

“C-Closer?” Stiles asks, tripping over the word.

“Yeah, you’re too far from the fireplace to get warm.”

“Uh, alright, if you say so.” He shrugs and shuffles closer on the couch, one side of his body almost touching Derek’s.

“There you go,” the man says, draping one half of the blanket over Stiles’ body. “See? Isn’t that better?”

“Yes, it really is,” he admits. He has the urge to cuddle up to the guy, even though he’s a complete stranger. That’s weird, right? It’s just that Derek is a strong, commanding presence. It’s just what he needs today, to let someone else take the wheel. And somehow Derek seems to know what Stiles needs without even asking. Even though he doesn’t know this man, he feels safe and calmer than he remembers being in a long time.

Their hands touch, and he quickly draws it away from the man. “Sorry. My hands are probably freezing.”

He huffs out a laugh. “They are.” Derek’s eyes lock with his and he can’t look away. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to. It makes his stomach flutter again, either way. “You should cuddle up closer to me to keep warm.”

He almost chokes on his own spit. He doesn’t know whether to blush or laugh at that terrible come-on. Though it’s not like he doesn’t want to cuddle with the guy. Honestly, he’s starting to think this whole thing is a hypothermia-induced hallucination or something. It’s insane to think a man like Derek would be flirting with him.

“Ah, are you sure?” he asks, hedging.

“Of course I’m sure,” Derek says easily. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, would we?”

He swallows, biting down on the giddiness he feels starting to bubble up in his chest. “Okay.” He pulls his feet up and the couch and lifts his knees closer to his chest, closing the distance between them and leaning against Derek’s heavy bulk. Derek’s arm comes down around him, wrapping Stiles in both the heat from his body and the blanket. He sighs contentedly, letting his head droop to Derek’s shoulder as his eyes drift to gaze into the fire.

“Hey, I’m gonna get us some hot coco,” Derek says a few minutes later. Stiles blinks out of his daze, lifting his head so he can look at the man. “I put it on earlier, and I think you could really use it.”

Stiles agrees wholeheartedly. “That sounds amazing, actually. Thank you.”

Derek gets up, tucking the blanket fully around Stiles before padding into the kitchen. Stiles snuggles into the warmth of the blanket and inhales, basking in the residue of Derek’s scent on it. It’s masculine, and musky, kind of woodsy, and he wishes he could bottle it up and take it with him. Derek returns a few moments later and Stiles wordlessly opens the blanket so he can get back inside and cuddle him some more.

“And here you go,” Derek says, handing him a steaming mug of chocolaty goodness. “Your hot coco has arrived.”

“Dude, keep this up and you’re going to be my new favourite person.”

Derek winks at him. “I’m counting on it.”

He blushes and averts his eyes, studying the hot liquid like it holds the answers to the universe.

“Remember to blow,” the man says, right in his ear. Stiles shivers, then bites back a whine of embarrassment when he feels his dick stir in interest. Derek really isn’t helping. He has wrapped the blanket around them again, one of his arms tucking Stiles against his chest, and his fingers drawing a random pattern on Stiles’ side. His dick gives a little jump again.

He so doesn’t need an awkward boner right now, but it seems to be inevitable. It’s just . . . Derek smells amazing, and looks amazing, and is really warm, and Stiles might have a domesticity kink. And a lumberjack kink. And a size kink too, probably. It’s all very unfortunate.

Because the thing is, Stiles is a virgin. He’s also twenty-one, which means sexual frustration is a thing. Until now, however, no one has felt right. He tried a one-night stand once, but it was so terrible and hurt so much he just told the guy to stop and gave him a blowjob instead, not even coming himself. He might be sexually frustrated, but he’s not desperate enough to do something like that again.

With Derek, it somehow feels different, though.

He blows on his hot coco, trying not to think about what else he’d like to blow. He takes a sip and closes his eyes at the delicious taste.

“You made this from scratch, didn’t you?”

Derek chuckles. “I’m glad you can tell. Most people I know don’t really care either way.”

“Heathens, all of them.” Derek laughs, and Stiles puts his mug down on the coffee table to let it cool for a bit before turning to him.

The man is looking at him with amusement in his eyes, and Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s so funny?”

“You just look adorable in those big clothes, and the way you’re cooling off that coco. It’s really cute.” He hums.

“What?” Stiles asks. “Why are you looking at me like –”

His words die in his throat when Derek’s lips land on his, and he gasps. Derek takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside his mouth, his beard scratching against Stiles’ face, and Stiles is in heaven. The butterflies in his stomach are doing somersaults, but it’s the best kind of feeling. Derek cups one of his big hands around the side of his neck and Stiles leans into it greedily, suddenly craving the contact of Derek’s hand, grounding him. He fists his hands in Derek’s flannel, unsure if he’s allowed to reciprocate the touching.

The man draws back way too soon, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Stiles shakes his head, fingers flexing in the man’s shirt reflexively. “No, I . . . I’m glad you did.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, but Stiles doesn’t miss the amused quirk of his mouth. “Really? Well,” he huffs a soft laugh, turning Stiles’ insides into jelly, “if that’s the case. . .”

Derek’s lips are back on his and Stiles welcomes them eagerly. One of the man’s hands returns to his neck, while the other circles around to his stomach, slipping under the material until he finds skin, lightly trailing it up and down Stiles’ stomach. His whole body shudders in pleasure, and he can’t stop a soft moan from escaping his mouth, immediately swallowed by Derek’s.

He pulls himself even closer, halfway in the man’s lap by now, and one of Derek’s big hands has migrated to his thigh, sliding up and down with just the right kind of pressure. Stiles wants more, wants to go faster, wants to forget everything but this man making out with him. Yet every time he tries to move things along, Derek slows him down again. It’s the best kind of torture.

He gives in without a fuss, letting Derek set the pace and take him apart with just his mouth and his hands roaming his body. He wonders if he’ll get beard burn, but wouldn’t care if he did, too preoccupied with Derek’s skilled tongue coaxing all sorts of sounds from him. Derek’s hand on his thigh slides up to his butt and squeezes, making him moan. His dick throbs.

Derek pulls back, and Stiles’ entire body screams for him to come back. He keeps his mouth shut, though.

“I think we need to make you a little warmer, baby,” he says softly. “Why don’t you lie down?”

“Uhm, lie down?” he mumbles, still stuck on the word _baby_. He’d expected it to make him feel belittled, but it doesn’t. He’s really into it, actually. He lies down like Derek suggested, leaving space between his legs for Derek to fit between them. His dick is tenting the material of his sweats, making it glaringly obvious how hard he is. He locks eyes with the man. “Like this?”

“Just like that,” Derek nods appreciatively, eyes roaming over his body. “That should work perfectly.” He slides closer, gently nudging Stiles’ thighs further apart with his knees. His hands find their way back beneath Stiles’ shirt, spreading their warmth, and Stiles melts into the couch, going pliant underneath his touch.

“Lift your arms up,” Derek commands softly a few moments later, pushing up Stiles’ shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asks, although he does lift his arms for the man.

“Well, we have this big ol’ blanket to keep you warm,” he muses. “And something tells me it’s gonna get in the way.” He pulls the shirt over Stiles’ head and lets it drop to the floor, his eyes and hands hungrily moving down his naked chest.  He has some muscle definition, not nearly as scrawny as he used to be in high school, but he’s still small compared to Derek. The man doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“You look . . . wonderful,” he whispers, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses on his happy trail, then up his stomach, and towards his chest, where he stays to pay some attention to Stiles’ nipples.

Stiles is breathing heavily, soft moans escaping from his lips. His arms come down to Derek’s shoulders, but the man lifts them back over Stiles’ head.

“Keep them here for me, okay?”

He can only nod. Words have left him. All he wants is for Derek to keep going. The man spends some more time on his nipples, then moves along to his collarbones, his throat, his jaw, an ear – which turns out to be a major erogenous zone, who’d have thought? – and finally backtracks to Stiles’ mouth, humming appreciatively when Stiles immediately opens up for him.

“I think it’s only fair if I also take my shirt off,” Derek says, leaning back to pull his flannel off and revealing his naked chest. _Yeees_. Stiles is basically salivating at the sight of the man’s delicious chest hair, narrowing to an alluring treasure trail that disappears under the waistband of his sinfully tight jeans.

Stiles’ hands flex, wanting to reach out and touch, but Derek told him to keep his arms above his head. He stifles a whine.

“Please kiss me,” he whispers.

Derek grins, letting his flannel drop to the ground. He snakes one arm under Stiles’ back, the other moving up to grip Stiles’ wrists in one large hand. Then he finally lies down, his big, warm body covering Stiles’ completely. The skin-on-skin contact makes him shudder, and Stiles goes right back to moaning when Derek’s lips reconnect with his own. He loses all thought when their dicks rub against each other through their clothes.

They make out like that for a while, the only sounds in the room coming from their kissing and the crackling flames in the fireplace. Stiles gives himself over to Derek, letting the man take what he wants, but Derek keeps things achingly slow and gentle.

“I bet you feel a lot warmer now, don’t you?” Derek asks sometime later, grinding against him with a single sharp thrust. Fucking tease.

He nods, trying to find his voice. “Y-Yeah. I really do.”

Derek hums. “There’s one more thing I should try to keep you warm.” He noses at Stiles’ neck, and Stiles automatically tilts his head back to give him more room.

“My neck?”

Instead of answering, Derek leans down to leave a wet trail of kisses along his neck, alternating it with little nips of his teeth. Occasionally, he nips at one particular spot low on his neck, then sucks at it. It’ll probably be a hickey, but Stiles welcomes it. He loves the thought of wearing Derek’s mark.

His dick is throbbing in his sweats when Derek suddenly leans back, looking outside and humming thoughtfully.

“Looks like the rain has cleared up,” he says. “You should probably be heading home then, huh?”

Say what now?

Stiles gapes at him, warring between laughing or crying, or maybe screaming in frustration because his dick is hard as a rock and he wants to _come_ , _damn it._

“Do I have to?” he asks when he’s finally found his voice again.

“Today was a wonderful day,” Derek tells him, leaning back and then getting up from the couch, “and you’re always welcome here. You could come back tomorrow, even. If you want.”

Stiles _wants._ He really, really does.

“Okay, yeah, of course. I’ll uh, bring back your clothes. Tomorrow,” he says, sitting back up with a light frown. This guy is so confusing. “Let me just put my shirt back on, or your shirt, I guess.”

“Keep it,” Derek says, smiling. “I think it looks better on you anyway.”

He sighs, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Okay. Goodbye.” He’s about to walk past Derek and to the front door, but Derek stops him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hold on, not so fast.”

Derek’s lips claim his again in a kiss, and he sighs into it. He could do this all day. The man is an amazing kisser. Derek leans back, giving him one final peck on the lips and leads him to the door.

“Be safe out there,” he says softly. It sounds like a command.

Stiles nods. “I will. See you soon.”

“Alright little one,” Derek smiles. “Goodbye for now.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm toying with the idea of writing more of this, although I have no idea when I'll ever come around to it, since I want to finish GYHITG first. Would you guys be interested in that at all? Any suggestions of what you'd like to see? Let me know ^_^  
> For now I wish you all a happy new year and until next time!
> 
> Update 01-01: There will be a series! Thank you for the great response!


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